


A Million Little Pieces

by sal_si_puedes



Series: Matter Over Mind [4]
Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Angst, Bonding, Flashbacks, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multiple Orgasms, Porn With Plot, dub-con (due to heat thing), stream of consciousness (but just a little bit)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-05-14
Packaged: 2018-01-22 01:30:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1570967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sal_si_puedes/pseuds/sal_si_puedes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens after Mike leaves Harvey's condo after they've spend Mike's heat together. Begins after chapter 5 of <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1399666/chapters/2934376"><b>What It Is</b> </a>and continues all through the last chapter and beyond.</p><p>You should probably read that one first or this won't make too much sense. Mike's POV.</p><p>The whole story goes AU at some point of time after 3.10 (Stay). Mike and Rachel don't live together and the company is not called "Pearson Specter" yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [naias](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=naias).



> Massive thanks to my beta, the wonderful naias, who isn't listed as a co-author here for just _one_ reason only: because I know she wouldn't want that. But this story wouldn't even _exist_ without her (she was very persuasive in communicating her wish to hear Mike's voice *g*) and she really whispered this into my quill while I was writing it. It's hers as much as it is mine. This is for you, dear naias! Thank you.
> 
> And a huge thank you goes to [salixbabylon](http://archiveofourown.org/users/salixbabylon/pseuds/salixbabylon) who proofread this stuff for me and caught all my missing comas, repetitions, wrong pronouns, typos (and "real mistakes") and bloody Briticisms and helped me make this story better with her suggestions and ideas!
> 
> I'm [**sal-si-puedes**](http://sal-si-puedes.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.

It is still quite early when Mike leaves Harvey's place that Friday morning, and he shivers in the cool morning air. The building's glass doors fall shut behind him and he turns up the collar of his jacket against the chill. He should have brought a coat.

His mind is spinning. The last couple of days are stored up in there, running amok inside his head. All he can hear is _Monday, Monday, Monday, Monday and You could--_ and _No. No. No. No._

He shakes his head and slings the bag over his shoulder. He wants to be as far away from here and from those memories as possible, as soon as possible. Wants to be anywhere but here. Wants to be--

 _No. No. No. Monday, Monday, Monday. Monday then. Monday._ Harvey's and his own words weave into each other, claw at each other, fading and rising, again and again.

Mike makes for his bike and undoes the lock with trembling fingers. He needs to move, he needs to shut up his fucking brain, he needs to get away from here _now_.

He knows he really shouldn't be cycling; it's a safety-issue, but he needs the cool air against his face and the white noise of the wind in his ears and he needs to get away from here _right now._  
  
He can still feel Harvey's dick in his ass. Harvey's breath is still on his neck and Harvey's lips are moving down his throat, maddeningly hot. Harvey's voice stings his ears and his fucking scent is everywhere. 

Mike needs to get away right now or he'll burst into a million pieces.

He puts on his helmet and mounts his bike. He doesn't know where to go, so he starts to pedal aimlessly. He rides through the park for two hours, the bag heavy on his back. 

***** 

Mike bikes home after that, sweaty and sore. His shoulders and back hurt from the weight of his bag. He can still feel Harvey inside of him, and his mind is still racing but even though his pulse is high and his heart is beating too fast in his chest, he feels a little calmer. Well, maybe "calm" is not the right word – he feels more tired, more worn out, exhausted.

He carries his bike up the stairs, into his apartment, and lets his bag drop to the ground once he’s inside. He slumps down onto the couch and leans forward, propping his elbows on his knees and closing his eyes. He lets his head hang between his shoulders and tries to catch his breath.

He doesn't want to, but he knows that what comes next is inevitable. He has tried to push his memories and thoughts, all those images and sounds and smells and impressions, to the back of his mind and hold them in place there, out of his conscious reach, with every turn of the pedals, with every movement of his muscles. He knows, though, that he can't keep them locked up in there for much longer; his mind just doesn't work that way, and he thinks he might as well get this over with now. 

He takes a deep breath, presses the heels of his hands against his eyes, and lowers the barricades. The first thing he hears is Harvey's voice.

_Monday then._

He hears their moaning and panting, the sound of Harvey's shower in the master bathroom, the sirens in the distance at night. He hears the rustle of the crisp linens and Harvey's bare feet on the bathroom floor, the dearest little sound. He listens to the silence that wraps itself around them when Harvey enters him and holds his breath. He hears Harvey take his first breath once he is fully sheathed, the exact moment Mike's eyes snap open. He had forgotten about that breath following the silence, and a shiver runs down his spine now that he remembers. 

Not that sound, not that. Mike runs his fingers through his hair and leans back. Not that sound, not now. 

He's not yet able to choose and select what he remembers, so he lets whatever comes to the surface first wash over him. The smell of Harvey's hair after they've been to the pool. The slump of Harvey's shoulders the morning he finds Mike in the guest room packing his bag. The sensation of crunchy toast in his mouth, and the taste of bitter orange marmalade. The faintest hint of moisture in the outer corner of Harvey's eyes when he's lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. Harvey's fingertips ghosting over the skin of Mike's face when he thinks that Mike is asleep. The burning need, the all-consuming want, the hitch in his own voice, begging to be filled.

Mike can feel himself blush at the sensation of his dick twitching in his trousers, and he hates all of that so much right now. He doesn't want to want this, he's never wanted to want this, but then he slipped somehow, just once, and now all he wants to do is to throw himself at Harvey's feet and beg him to make him whole again. 

Harvey hates weakness.

Harvey will want _this_ again one day, and then he will ask Mike for _this_ again, and Mike knows that he won't be able to reject Harvey in the end. He knows he won't want to.

Harvey hates weakness.

Mike cringes as his hole clenches, and for a moment panic flares up in his chest. He checks his pulse and takes a couple of deep breaths, trying to relax. He shifts on the sofa and presses his legs together. When he's sure that it's not another, a late wave of his heat building inside of him, the tension in his muscles slowly ebbs away. He sinks back again against the sofa. He wraps his arms around himself and remembers Harvey's strong, yet gentle embrace, grounding him, letting their bodies touch lightly, and Harvey's hands running up and down his back in soothing strokes. 

Harvey hates weakness.

Mike tries to structure his memories into more coherent "episodes" now – that's how he thinks of those bundles of single bits and pieces that form a more complex memory or image – because he needs to do that before he can store them away again, at least for the time being. Single memory shards can slip past the barriers too easily, and binding them to others, bundling them up into "episodes" makes it easier to keep them locked away.

 _His last wave hits him in the wee hours of the morning. He wakes up flushed and hard, but also with the distinct notion that everything is somehow_ all right. _It takes him a couple of moments to realize why._

_Harvey is already inside of him, rocking against his backside in a gentle and maddeningly slow rhythm. His arms are wrapped around Mike, one hand is curled around Mike's dick, and his breath is shivering against the back of Mike's neck. Harvey's swollen cock is throbbing against Mike's inner walls, and both his and Mike's thighs are moist with Mike's slick._

_Mike moans and pushes back against Harvey, biting his lips and gripping Harvey's arm, the one that is wrapped around his chest._

_"You were--" Harvey murmurs and thrusts into Mike a little harder, the vibrations of his voice tickling against Mike's sweaty skin. "You were saying my name." He noses at the nape of Mike's neck and tightens his hold on Mike's body._

_Mike can feel Harvey swell inside of him even more._

_"You were saying ‘please.’" Harvey stills and lets go of Mike's cock, causing Mike to groan with the loss of sensation. "You were so wet already, I--" Harvey brings his hand to his face and inhales Mike's scent before running his tongue down the inside of his fingers. His hips buck against Mike, and he moans as his dick pushes even deeper into the other man's body. "I had to--" Harvey wraps his hand around Mike's cock again and moves it up and down a couple of times, making Mike tremble with need. "I just had to--"_

_Mike squeezes his eyes shut and fucks into Harvey's fist. "Please," he whispers. "Shit, Harvey, please…" He tightens his muscles around Harvey's erection and digs his fingers into Harvey's arm. "Come on, Harvey, fuck, come on now…"_

_Harvey moans low in his throat, and Mike can feel an open-mouthed smile against his skin. When Harvey speaks again, Mike shudders and presses back against the other man's chest, inhaling the vibrations of Harvey's voice with his whole body. "You feel so good, Mike._ So good. _Want to do this every day, want to stay inside of you always, love being inside you, god, you have no idea,_ no idea-- _"_

_Mike can feel Harvey's knot swelling and--_

He remembers thinking--

_Yeah, you would want me in heat all the time, wouldn't you, want me to need you all the time, don't you, just lying here wet and waiting, always just that, want me to never work again, don't you--_

\-- and he remembers hearing Harvey's voice in the men's room at the firm ages ago, bragging about his plans for the night and elaborating on how only an Omega in heat counts as a "true" Omega, an Omega begging to be fucked, and he remembers swallowing around the bitter taste of this thoughts and clenching his jaw against his growing desperation and disgust. He remembers urging Harvey on with his words and movements, rutting against him, and Harvey's voice in his ears the whole goddamn time--

_And then Harvey's grip on him goes impossibly tight, and he can't breathe, he can't move, and Harvey is swelling inside of him, and he can feel how tight he is around Harvey's dick, and just a bit more and he's coming, and Harvey's hand doesn't let go of his cock, and Harvey's seed fills him, and Harvey's voice fills him and Harvey's words fill him, and white light pierces his mind, and he forgets everything else, because this is what he wants, no matter what, and he's there._

_He's shaking his head, and Harvey is whispering against his skin and spurting inside of him, and he feels so_ at home _and weightless and grounded at the same time and thinking about that makes him sick. And Harvey is whispering against his skin and his words leave tiny burn marks where neck and shoulder meet. "Mine", they read, and "so good" and "Mike" and "yes" and "inside" and "more" and "always" and "mine" and "mine" and "Mike"._

Mike remembers stroking Harvey's arm with just the tips of his fingers and feeling Harvey's heartbeat slow down gradually against his back. He remembers keeping very still and trying to breathe as quietly as possible while Harvey's grip around his dick slowly loosens. He remembers forcing himself not to move as Harvey's hand goes slack and his breathing finally evens out. He remembers counting the minutes until Harvey's knot goes down, and he remembers slipping from Harvey's arms carefully as soon as he can. 

He remembers thinking that Harvey looks so young in his sleep and so very, very exhausted, and how much he would miss those delicate crow's feet and the small, so very small, corners of Harvey's mouth should he never get to see them again. He remembers fighting the urge, the _need_ to just worm his way back into Harvey's embrace, and he remembers feeling a violent shiver run through his body once he shook off the covers. He remembers missing Harvey's warmth so much it hurt. 

He remembers taking a quick shower and spending some fitful hours drifting back and forth between sleep and wakefulness in his bed in the guest room, and he remembers finishing packing his bag in a hurry at the first light of dawn. He remembers their tight and tense goodbyes, and after that he remembers nothing. Emptiness. Riding his bike. The weight of his bag heavy on his back.

Mike sighs and rises from the sofa. He walks over to the sink and pours himself a glass of water. He knows he should eat something, but he doesn't think he could keep anything down if he did. His knees feel weak and wobbly and his pulse is fast and shallow. Still, it’s not his heat, he decides, and sits down at the small table at the window.

His hand comes to rest over the patch of skin that holds the claim mark. Harvey's mark. The original mark is invisible now, of course, but Mike can feel it. He can feel it every fraction of every second of every minute of every day. He never forgets it, he always knows it's there. He remembers all the time he has carried the weight of this knowledge alone. 

He remembers Harvey biting him there again, just the other day. He remembers the throaty groan of "Mine" Harvey has etched into his skin, and he remembers the cursed sensation of relief washing over him the very moment Harvey's teeth broke his skin. He remembers how Harvey finally came to know about it all. 

_"No," Harvey repeats over and over when he finally grasps what Mike is trying to tell him. "No." Harvey's face is hard with denial and what Mike thinks is repulsion. His eyes, though hard as stones as well, are blazing with something that Mike can't put a name to. "You lied to me."_

_Mike apologizes again and again. He bares his neck to Harvey, shaking fingers pulling the shirt's collar aside, exposing the truth. He needs Harvey to see, needs him to understand or at least to know. He needs him to believe. And, above all, he needs Harvey to forgive him._

_Harvey doesn't want to know, though. He doesn't understand and he doesn't want to see. And when he finally_ does _see, because he has to, because Mike is forcing it on him – he most certainly isn't prepared to forgive. He pushes Mike against his desk, bruises his lips with harsh, unrelenting kisses and finally, finally turns him around and shoves first his fingers and then his cock into Mike's tight hole. And Mike wants it. He wants it so much. His whole body_ yearns _for it and he hates himself for that. He hates Harvey, too, because Harvey_ makes _him want it and because Harvey sees him like this and Harvey hates weakness._

_The clothes scratch his skin and he wants them out of the way, but there is no time, he's coming already and so is Harvey and he can't breathe and all he wants is for Harvey to hold him, to tell him that everything is going to be all right. And he hates himself for that because that won't happen and Harvey hates weakness._

_Harvey makes it very clear, afterwards, that he wants no part of this, no part of Mike. And when Mike looks at his body in the mirror the following morning after his shower, he understands why. Harvey hates weakness and Mike can feel the mark on his skin and in his soul all the time even though it has long faded into invisibility. It's there. It's always there. Mike is never alone._

_"We're done. For good this time."_

_When Harvey asks him for another heat weeks later, Mike knows he will say yes the second the question is out of Harvey's mouth. He curses himself for being so needy and such an easy lay and for wanting this so much despite his best efforts. He tries to talk himself out of it, but even before Donna has a word with him he knows that he eventually will say yes. Even though it scares the shit out of him._

Mike stretches his back and rubs his eyes. It's already slightly dusky outside. He must have sat here much longer than he thought. He is so tired, and he desperately wants to go to sleep and preferably never wake up again, but there are more memories wreaking havoc in his mind, and he knows that they won't let him sleep just yet. There is one memory especially that he finally has to confront – or rather to hand himself over to: San Francisco.

He gets up and takes a bottle of beer from the fridge. He wishes he could get high, and for a moment there he is sorely tempted, but he knows that that's out of the question. He has made a promise after all.

Mike snorts.

Promises.

Sitting down again, he takes a long swallow from his beer. They both made promises, he and Harvey, and they both broke them that day. Both of them, Mike reminds himself and takes another swig. They both did. Harvey did this to him, and he let him. Begged him for it, as a matter of fact.

He squeezes his eyes shut and bites his lips. 

_Harvey is drugged out of his mind with pheromones by the time he finally enters Mike's body. He can't keep his hands off Mike ,and he keeps touching every inch of Mike's skin that he can reach. Mike has never seen him like this before, never, so completely out of control yet so very much himself._

_Mike's legs are spread apart and Harvey is hovering over of him, his hands cupping Mike's face or running through Mike's sweat-drenched hair or up and down his chest and sides, his mouth open and wet against Mike's, and his dick fat and heavy inside of Mike's tight heat._

Mike remembers getting on his hands and knees for Harvey on the bed earlier – How did they make it to the bedroom? Weren't they in the living room just moments ago? – spreading his legs and _wanting_. He remembers Harvey kneeling behind him, reaching for him and turning him around.

 _"No, no, no," Harvey breathes. "Not like this. I want to see you, I want to see you,_ Mike-- _" Harvey's hands are everywhere, and Mike is so wet, and he_ needs _Harvey inside of him_ now _, he can't wait, he just wants--_

_"Yeah, like this," Harvey mouths against Mike's stomach, sloppy kisses, and his tongue is burning a fiery line from Mike's navel downward, downward to the base of his cock. "Like this." Harvey licks along Mike's cock once, from the base to the tip, and Mike moans at the sensation of the tip of Harvey's tongue gathering a drop of pre-come from his slit._

_"Come on, Harvey," Mike moans, and he hates the neediness in his voice. "Come on, inside, please--"_

_He knows he's begging but he's too far gone to care. He needs and he wants and he knows Harvey will give him everything and he just can't_ wait _. He tugs at Harvey's hair and he pushes his cock against Harvey's chest, trying to_ connect _, trying to show the other man what he wants, what he needs._

_And, of course, Harvey understands. He moves upwards and runs his hand along Mike's cleft and brings it up for both of them to taste. Their tongues meet between Harvey's fingers and Mike opens his eyes for a moment. Harvey must have done the same thing at the same time because their eyes meet, and Mike gasps. He doesn't know what exactly it is he sees in Harvey's eyes, but it makes his breath hitch and his hips thrust upwards. It makes Mike want to hide, but he can't turn his gaze away, can't close his eyes again even for a second._

Mike remembers something akin to a whimper escaping his lips (and that memory embarrasses him now, but he can't for the life of him remember feeling anything like that back then in that bed in San Francisco)--

_\-- and that sound is Harvey's name and please, and Harvey closes his eyes then and nods._

_"Anything, Mike," Harvey whispers. "Anything."_

_And because Mike knows that that is true, he wills his muscles to relax and he exhales against Harvey's forehead. He knows that Harvey will make this all right somehow. He knows that Harvey will take this desperate need that is tearing him apart and turn it into something good._

_Mike spreads his legs a little further and raises his hips. "Please," he murmurs. "Please--"_

_And Harvey understands, and he doesn't make Mike wait any longer. He positions himself and enters Mike with one languid thrust, resting his forehead against Mike's chest, holding his breath._

_Mike holds his breath then, too, and the silence that wraps itself around them is the sweetest kind of music in his ears for once._

_When Harvey releases his breath after what seems an eternity to Mike, it is shaking with something Mike can't name. It turns into a soft moan that turns into his name that turns into "yes, yes, yes", and Mike can finally breathe again as well. And his moan turns into Harvey's name, of course, and their words melt into each other just like their bodies do._

_They are one._

_Mike wants to move and he wants Harvey to move, but they remain like this, frozen in time and space, until Harvey raises his head and touches his lips to Mike's, and it's just fucking perfect like this and it hurts_ so much _and Mike doesn't know, he just doesn't know and, just for once, he doesn't mind not knowing._

_"Mike," Harvey murmurs against his lips. "Mike, Mike, Mike, Mike…" And Mike doesn't know if Harvey says "Mike" or "mine"; it all sounds the same to him, and that makes so much sense, he thinks, so much sense, all of a sudden._

_And Mike says, "yes, Harvey, yes" and "I want you" and "everything" and "please" and "Harvey" and "now" and "please" and, always and again, "please", just "please", just "please, now, Harvey, now, please--"_

_And Harvey says "yes, Mike, yes, perfect, so perfect" and "mine" and "Mike", but he also says "yours" and "always" and everything else._

_And when Harvey swells inside of him, all Mike can think, all he can feel is "yes, yes, yes" and "Harvey" and "yours" and "mine" and "This. Is. It."_

_And when Mike feels Harvey's knot filling him, when he feels Harvey's release filling him, he lets go, and he really, really does, and all he knows is Harvey and yes and oh God, perfect, and mine and yours, and he doesn't know where he ends and Harvey begins because that just doesn't matter anymore, it's not what they are anymore, it's irrelevant just like their words are, just like what they are is, staring into each others' eyes, drowning in each other, they are one, and he is Harvey's like he's always been, and Harvey is his, and that's all that matters all of a sudden._

_And then he's coming between their bodies, and that's just a tiny fraction of what they are, and when Harvey's mouth is right there, where his throat meets his shoulder, there are no questions left._

_And when Harvey asks, pleads, needs, “Mike, please, let me, I want to, yours, please, let me, just let me,” Mike's answer is clear as the brisk morning air, it's clear as Harvey's starched white shirts and Harvey's eyes and the sharp pain of Harvey's fingernails (as clear as his own fingernails digging into Harvey's skin), it fights its way from his heart through his lips and it's yes, of course, yes, Harvey, please, yes, yes, yes._

_And Harvey asks again, and Mike is getting a little impatient here, because why is there still a question, and why is it “are you sure?” it's so obvious, isn't it, and he just answers, all of him just answers, yes, yes, I am, of course I am, always, always, please do it, please, Harvey, please--_

_And Harvey understands and he-- Finally. Does. It._

_Harvey licks Mike's skin briefly and then there are his teeth and then there is the breaking of skin and then there is--_

Mike groans loudly, balls his hand into a tight fist and slams it onto the table. The impact actually hurts, and the rickety table shakes so much that the empty bottle falls over and rolls towards the end of the table's surface. All Mike can do is watch how it tumbles over the edge and shatters on the kitchen floor. 

The pieces go everywhere, and Mike wonders how such a little bottle can end up in so many shards and splinters. He will have to be careful later when he takes off his shoes. He hopes he doesn't forget.

_When Mike comes to again sometime later, Harvey has passed out and is softly breathing – because Harvey Specter doesn't snore, does he? – resting on Mike's chest._

_Mike can feel Harvey's knot slowly go down inside of him and, coming to his senses, he isn't quite sure how he feels about that. Panic sets in as soon as the level of pheromones in his system ebbs a little, and thoughts and emotions wage a raging battle inside of him. "I'm yours," he thinks, and "What have we done?" and "What does it mean?" and "I'm yours. I'm yours," and "What does it mean?"_

_He gently pushes Harvey off of his body and he can feel the stickiness between his legs again, and he isn't all that sure he likes that, all of a sudden._

_Harvey miraculously doesn't wake up when Mike disentangles himself from his embrace._

_Harvey doesn't wake up when Mike covers him with the sheets._

_Harvey doesn't wake up during all the minutes Mike watches him breathe._

_Harvey doesn't wake up when Mike runs his fingers over the bite mark above his clavicle, even though Mike is sure Harvey must feel that, too._

_When Mike traces his thumb over Harvey's slightly open lips, Harvey stirs but he doesn't open his eyes._

_"What happened?" Harvey mumbles. He doesn't see Mike close his eyes and bite his lips._

_"Nothing," Mike whispers after a while. "Nothing. Go back to sleep."_

Mike remembers leaving the suite for the first time in days that evening. He remembers quickly donning a dressing gown and searching for his key card in the darkening living room. He remembers closing the suite's door behind him and walking across the corridor, his feet bare. 

_His own room smells stale. Everything is still there, his clothes in the closet, files on the coffee table, his toothbrush and shaving kit in the bathroom. He takes a shower and his supps, and he takes another shower in the morning after sitting on the edge of his hotel bed all through the night. He showers, lets the hot water rain over his body for twenty minutes, and he uses the deodorant and the spray and he dresses in fresh clothes that smell like the closet and not like him._

_He walks over to the suite, where Harvey is waiting, dressed, and everything is packed. He is so fucking scared and he searches Harvey's eyes for something,_ anything _, but he can't find what he's looking for, even though he doesn't know what that is, exactly._

Mike remembers debating with himself, like he had been all night, if he should tell Harvey about the mark. But once again, he decides against it. He remembers thinking that maybe it will fade away with time, and that that might be a good thing, the better thing. He remembers wishing though that it wouldn’t. He remembers the need to say something, so he says the first thing that comes to his mind: "Thank you."

_He can't meet Harvey's eyes again. He can't bear the thought of not finding anything there, and he doesn't understand how Harvey cannot know. He feels it in every fiber of his being, and the mark pulses painfully beneath his shirt and jacket. It pulses with the rhythm of a heartbeat that isn't his own._

Mike moans and buries his face in his hands. He still doesn't understand how Harvey could have not known, how he could have simply _forgotten_. And his mind goes back to Harvey's mask-like face and all those "No"s, but also to Harvey's eyes when he finally told him. 

It goes back to the last four days, to the t-shirts and energy drinks, to the pool and Harvey's hands on his skin. Harvey's voice and words, bathing him in praise. And Harvey's eyes. Over and over again. Claiming him. Wanting him.

He's so tired. But when he goes to bed, carefully stepping around all the shards and splinters of broken glass, sleep doesn't come. 

He longs for Harvey's embrace, and somehow he thinks that Harvey would want to hold him, too, right this moment. Just hold him, not-- And that, if they really did this, not just a heat every now and then, but really did this, that Harvey maybe even would let him keep working if he wanted to. That Harvey maybe doesn't really see him the way he sees those other Omegas he was talking about in the men's room at the firm that day, and that Harvey would want him even if he wasn't in heat and that Harvey would let him go back on his supps from time to time. That Harvey would take care of him. That he wouldn't want to take Mike’s life away. That Harvey likes Mike's mind so much and that he wouldn't want it to go to waste. That maybe, maybe Harvey would want-- 

He rolls onto his side under the covers and curls in on himself. He remembers that thick, heavy woolen blanket in Harvey's condo, and he wishes he could feel its weight on his body right now. He remembers Harvey wrapping him up in that blanket when he couldn't let Harvey hold him just yet.

He remembers Harvey claiming him again and whispering to him in the dark. He can still hear Harvey's voice, and words that hurt and words that soothe and ease the pain drift into one another in his mind. 

He remembers Harvey's eyes. He remembers not being able to hold Harvey's gaze, because it's too--, just too heavy, the weight of Harvey's eyes on his is just too much, and it takes him some time to put a name to what he's feeling when he thinks of what he might have read in those eyes had he dared to look. Remorse. 

He swallows around the feeling of loss and loneliness, and he squeezes his eyes shut tightly until they burn. He knows that they're not finished. He knows that he will have to go back to Harvey and look into his eyes.

He has to go and see Rachel tomorrow, of course. He has to talk to her and get his shit together. And then he has to see Harvey again. He has to look into Harvey's eyes and see.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for taking the time and reading and leaving kudos and commenting! You guys make my day!!

"How did it go?" Rachel asks as he walks past her into her apartment the following afternoon.

"How did it go?" Mike repeats, snorting through his nose. "How do you think it went?" He drops his keys onto the table and flops down into a chair.

"I don't know," Rachel says and takes two glasses from the cupboard and a bottle of water from the fridge. She pours them each a glass and sits down at the head of the table, reaching for his hands. "Tell me."

"You wouldn't understand," Mike mutters and withdraws his hands. "You couldn't." He leans back and watches her pick up her glass and turn it in her fingers. "It's-- I can't explain it. You wouldn't understand."

Rachel nods. They had that conversation before, when Mike had told her about San Francisco. He had struggled to describe that all-consuming need during a heat and the overwhelming sense of belonging after Harvey had claimed him. He knows it isn't her fault that she will never be able to understand. He knows she's trying, but no Beta will ever grasp just a fraction of what it means to want so unconditionally. It's not her fault.

"Did--" she clears her throat. "Did he give you what you needed?"

Mike blushes and nods. "Yeah," he whispers under his breath. _That, and more,_ he adds in his mind.

Rachel frowns and takes a sip from her glass.

"Rach," Mike starts to speak, but then he pauses as he reaches for his own glass. "This-- I-- We--" He takes a deep swallow and sets the glass down again. "You and I. I can't do this anymore." He looks up and their eyes meet.

She bites her lips and her hands shake as she takes another sip of water. "Are you," she breaks the eye contact and carefully places the glass onto the table top. "Are you going to be with him?"

"No," Mike answers quickly. "No. He doesn't-- No. He doesn't want me like that, so. No." He shakes his head and reaches for her hand. "I'm sorry, Rachel."

Rachel nods and squeezes his fingers. "I know. I know. I was just hoping that it would last a little longer, you and I, I mean." She sniffs and lowers her eyes. "We had a lot of fun, too, didn't we?"

"Yeah," Mike chuckles awkwardly. "We did. Thank you for everything, Rachel. You're a good friend."

"I always knew it would come to this, eventually," Rachel whispers. "Even before San Francisco. I always knew that you and he-- And when you told me how much you-- You really are in over your head, aren't you?"

"Don't--" Mike snaps, and Rachel flinches. "Please, don't," he repeats in a calmer voice. "Don't say that."

"But it's true," Rachel answers quietly. "You've always been his, I suppose, in a way. Just like he has always--"

"What the fuck are you talking about, Rachel?" Mike jumps up and starts to pace the room. "He doesn't-- He isn't--"

"God, Mike, you're so--" She interrupts herself and rises from her chair. "Anyway," she says, raising and eyebrow at him. "You're going to stay for dinner? I can make lasagna."

He stops his pacing and his shoulders slump. He looks at Rachel for a second or two before he bursts into a bitter fit of laughter. "Okay," he grins. "Okay, you're right. And yes, I'd love to stay for dinner. Your lasagna is the best."

Mike watches TV and twiddles with the remote while Rachel cooks for them. She has banned him from the kitchen and sent him to the living room because he's all thumbs today, and what he does (or tries to do)--chopping an onion, filling a pot with water--isn't really helping her with her cooking. When she brings him a glass of red wine, he nearly knocks it over because his hands are shaking and sweaty. He can't sit still and he keeps switching channels every couple of seconds. 

The food is good, and Mike actually enjoys Rachel's company. But then, he always has. She's smart and fun and she can talk about things that don't really matter for hours, thank god, and she can make him laugh. He smiles at her over the table, and his eyes tell her that he is so very, very fond of her. She smiles back and nods in understanding.

After dinner, Mike feels already a little drunk. He's had a couple of glasses of wine and he vaguely registers that maybe a few more words are spilling from his mouth than he had intended.

"Fuck, it isn't even _me_ he wants!" Mike mutters and reaches for his glass again. "It's those fucking pheromones. They _make_ him--"

"Mike," Rachel interrupts him. "This is _Harvey Specter_ we're talking about. Do you really think there is anything in the world that can _make_ him do anything he doesn't _want_ to do?"

"You don't understand," Mike mutters. "You have no idea what it's like."

"No, I don’t," she answers and drains her glass before refilling it. "But I've known that man for far longer than you have, Mike. I've watched him and I've heard him… talking about bedding Alphas, Betas, and _Omegas_ left and right for years, even though some of that talk may have been more bark than bite, if you know what I mean. I've heard him talk about it with the other Alphas in the firm. You know how they talk about a lot of things around us Betas, they think we--" She takes another swallow. "Anyway, I have _never_ seen him like he’s been since San Francisco. Never." She sets her glass down and reaches for Mike's hand again. "Harvey wants you, Mike. He wants you like-- He _asked_ you for this heat, remember?"

"Yeah," Mike answers, withdrawing his hand. "Because he wanted to get his rocks off. Because he can't with anyone else now, because--"

"He bonded with you, Mike. He _claimed_ you. He--"

"Exactly," Mike interrupts. "And now that fucking bond won't let him fuck any other Omega in heat or any other Omega _at all_ , for all I know. And that's what he wants me for." 

Rachel raises her eyebrows and opens his mouth, but Mike makes a gesture with his hand to stop her from talking.

"No, Rach, it _is_. He _told_ me."

Mike's mind replays Harvey's words from just a few days ago.

_I thought that perhaps we could do this once in a while, when we both-- I will want this again._

He cringes and bites his lips. "That's what he wants, Rachel. That's _all_ he wants."

"And you want more."

"Shit," Mike hisses. "No. I want _out_. I want to be free of this, I want _him_ to be free of this. I did that to him, Rachel. I made him--" Mike falls silent when Rachel raises her eyebrows again. "And _he_ did this to _me_. I'm not like him, Rachel. I'm not that strong. I want--" He buries his face in his hands and groans. "Shit."

"I've been trying to avoid something like this for all of my life, Rachel," Mike says after a while. "You know I have. I want to work. As a lawyer. I don't want to depend on some Alpha like that. I don't want to be reduced to-- He most likely won't let me work anymore if we really-- I don't want someone else to-- And I don't want him to-- I don't know, _knock me up_ the first chance he gets because-- Because that's just how it is, isn't it? He _could_ , you know that he could. And I would let him. I would want him to-- That's how it would be if we-- It's just pheromones, Rach. It's not worth throwing your life away for."

Rachel sits back and stares at Mike for a couple of moments blankly. Then she sighs and leans forward. "For someone with your intellect you can be incredibly stupid at times, Mike." 

She refills their glasses once more and takes a long swallow from hers. "Has it ever occurred to you that both of you _let_ it happen? _Both of you?_ "

When he doesn't answer, she shakes her head and scoffs. "Yeah, it has. Stop arguing yourself out of it."

Mike closes his eyes for a second, and all he can see is two stacks of freshly laundered clothes, cans of a weird green energy drink, and dark eyes gazing into his.

"Fuck," Mike whispers and takes another swig from his glass. "I'm drunk."

Rachel nods and rises from her chair. "You can sleep on the couch," she says and goes to fetch a pillow and a blanket.

*****

The apartment is quiet. Rachel went to bed half an hour ago and Mike has settled in on the couch. He's wide awake, though, going through his and Rachel's conversation again and again.

He knows Rachel is right, of course. She _does_ know him quite well, he realizes, at least much better than he's given her credit for so far. He knows that – if he wants to understand and maybe even be done with this Harvey-bonding-pheromone-fucking-love-shit once and for all – he has to look into Harvey's eyes, and he has to listen to what he finds there.

He rises from the couch and pours himself another glass of wine. He knows that he shouldn't, but he needs the reassurance of the glass in his hands. Sitting down at the table again, he closes his eyes.

He remembers Harvey's eyes out on the deck the first evening, saying _please_ and asking Mike for permission to let him finally hold him. He searches for pity but all he can see is genuine concern and the desire to be close to him. A desire that turns into unbridled need later, in the elevator, in the pool – every time Harvey looks at Mike before they-- Harvey looks at him as if he wants to swallow him alive, as if he wants to make him _his_ over and over again. As if he wants Mike to swallow _him_ alive. As if he wants to give Mike everything he has, everything he is. As if he wants everything Mike has, knows, and is.

Mike remembers Harvey's eyes before Mike first kisses him on the sofa the evening after their major fall-out. They are filled with trust and encouragement. They are mild, almost soft, yet strong and reliable. They hold a promise and a plea.

He recalls the look in Harvey's eyes when Mike rejects him in the shower after they've made lo -- had sex later that night, and again before they get into bed, and again the next morning when Harvey finds him in the guest room, packing his bag. The hurt and the sadness he finds there are so intense they're almost solid, like a punch in the gut. 

Mike gasps and clamps his hand over his mouth. _Oh god, Harvey,_ he thinks and he can feel his eyes prickle. _I'm sorry. I'm sorry…_

He wants to remember the look in Harvey's eyes when Harvey claimed him in that hotel suite in San Francisco, but he doesn't dare go back there just yet. He knows what he would find in his memory, and he's not sure he can take it. He's afraid he'll tumble over the edge if he does, just like the bottle that fell over the edge of the table in his apartment yesterday, and shatter into a million little pieces.

 

***** 

"He doesn't just go the extra mile for me, Rach, he runs the extra fucking _marathon_. He goes out of his way for me, in every way. He--," Mike looks at her across the breakfast table the next morning and he knows she can see that he hasn't slept one minute that night. "He-- God, and in bed he--" Mike clears his throat and clenches his jaw. "He treats me like an equal. Like something precious. As if I--" He closes his eyes and buries his face in his hands. "And he doesn't understand that, I don't deserve it."

He looks up again, and Rachel tilts her head.

"I think he wants me, Rach," Mike whispers. "I think he wants me so much, even if it's just-- Even if he doesn't-- And it's killing him that I won't let him-- I can see it in his eyes. He's dying inside every time I--" Mike sighs and rubs his hands over his face. "And I can't-- I have to-- He deserves that I at least try."

Rachel reaches for his hand again then, and this time he allows her touch. When she squeezes his fingers, he looks up and meets her eyes.

"I want to--" He swallows and lowers his gaze again. "I don't know _what_ he wants but--" His hands go limp in Rachel's grip, and he shakes his head. " _Whatever_ he wants. I want to give it to him." He raises his head again, swallowing against the lump in his throat. "It scares me shitless, Rachel. It really, really does. But I can't help it. And I can't explain why-- But that’s what I want."

Rachel lets go of his hands and nods. She fixes him breakfast and smoothes her hands over the front of his wrinkled shirt when he gets up without having eaten a single bite.

"Go home. Shower," she says. "Lie down for a little bit. And then go to him."

Mike nods and pulls her into a tight hug. "Thanks for letting me stay," he mumbles into her hair. "Thanks for letting me--"

She breaks the embrace and places a quick kiss on his lips before she shoves him towards the door. "Go."

"Thanks for everything," Mike says. He knows that, even though she doesn't really understand, she's trying.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you to everyone who's read this or left kudos or a comment. You guys rock!!
> 
> This is a rather short chapter (it coincides with chapter 6 of [What It Is](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1399666/chapters/2934376)), but the next (and final one in this story) is almost ready to post. :-)

When Mike rings the bell to Harvey's condo he is a bundle of nerves. The fact that it takes such a damn long time until Harvey answers isn't making it any better, of course. What if Harvey isn't even at home? But Raoul would have said something, back down in the lobby, wouldn't he? But he had just waved Mike through, a weird, questioning look on his face. Mike doesn't remember seeing him reach for the phone, though, and he doesn't know what that means. What if Harvey has gone out and--

When the door finally swings open and Harvey is standing in front of him, Mike is at a loss for what to say. 

"You look like shit," Harvey says after a couple of seconds. His eyes are carefully guarded and he takes a deep breath. "You're not in heat anymore."

_Shit,_ Mike thinks and wonders if Harvey is going to let him in like this at all. But then Harvey opens the door a little further and motions for Mike to step inside, asking him if he's okay.

Mike doesn't really know what that means, but he knows he's not, and that's what he tells Harvey as he walks past him into the condo. He doesn't know what to say, so he just shrugs his shoulders and looks at the other man.

For a fraction of a second, Harvey's eyes blaze. They just blaze, and then Harvey's arms are around him, and they're kissing and tearing at each others' clothes, and Mike wants Harvey's skin under his fingers right fucking now, and Harvey is so hard already and so is he.

When they break the kiss (kisses) and their eyes meet, the memory of that bottle flashes up in Mike's mind again, tumbling over the edge and shattering into a million little pieces. He must remember to be careful later, with all those shards and splinters lying around. He must not forget.

"Show me," Mike begs, and even though he isn't exactly sure what he's asking for, he knows that Harvey will. 

And then he's lying on the bed and Harvey is on top of him and there is so much need in Harvey's eyes, such a desperate desire, and Mike is reeling with the realization that it is for him – and for him alone. And it doesn't falter, not when Harvey prepares him, not when he enters him, not when he moves inside him.

Mike feels as if he's drowning in Harvey's eyes, and whoever said that drowning is a cruel way to die knew exactly what they were talking about. Mike knows that there is no way back after this. For either of them.

"I'm glad you came back," is the first thing Harvey says to him when they can speak again, and his fingers idly play with Mike's come on his stomach.

And suddenly everything is just too much. Mike doesn't remember getting up, but he finds himself standing in front of the window, naked, trembling, and Harvey's voice is saying something in his back.

"Mike? What's wrong?"

Everything, Mike wants to say. Nothing. And he knows he shouldn't, and he doesn't really want to, but he has to, if just to fight the panic in his chest.

He tries to explain, but he can't, so he challenges Harvey, he challenges him to explain what he simply can't wrap his mind around, and he accuses him and he knows he shouldn't, he knows he mustn't, but it's all he can do for all he knows. And the look he finds in Harvey's eyes breaks his heart.

But then Harvey starts to speak, and Mike knows he will never forget those words, not in a million years. They are his words, Harvey gives them to him, and he locks them away, not only in his mind but also in his heart. He never knew that words could weigh so much and make him feel so light at the same time.

_There is something between us, always has been. Not the Alpha-Omega-thing – something else. Something-- Something fundamental, something so profound--_

And he knows that Harvey is right. He knows that Harvey will pick up all those little shards and splinters and that will hold them in his hands with the utmost care. He knows that those shards and splinters will always be Harvey's most prized possessions, and that's why he believes everything Harvey says. 

_God help me – but I do._

Harvey doesn't think that he is weak. Or at least he doesn't hate his weakness. 

Harvey wants him.

Harvey needs him.

Harvey loves him, for fuck's sake.

And even though he can't say it back just yet, he knows that Harvey understands. That he knows. Because Harvey knows him better than anyone else in this world.

They are really going to do this.


	4. Chapter 4

They're sitting at the breakfast table the next morning, all dressed up for work, and Mike is quiet, sipping his coffee slowly. He pushes his cereal around in his bowl, but he can't bring himself to actually eat anything.

"Mike," Harvey says calmly and reaches for his hand. "What's on your mind?"

Mike shakes his head and tries to withdraw his hand again, but Harvey holds onto it and brushes his thumb over Mike's skin gently.

"Mike, look at me," he says and Mike lifts his head. "What is on your mind?"

"Nothing, really," Mike mumbles. "It's too silly, it's--"

Harvey tilts his head and squeezes Mike's hand. "Tell me."

"Well," Mike starts and then pauses, breaking eye contact. He knows he's blushing and even though he tries to make his voice sound firm, he cringes at how small it sounds. "I was just thinking--" He can feel Harvey nodding, and takes a deep breath before he continues. "I was just thinking if you-- I mean, I was thinking that you'd maybe consider letting me keep working… I mean, I know--"

Harvey's head snaps up and he lets go of Mike's hand. "What?"

Mike looks up and he can't really read Harvey's eyes. Harvey's face is a mask, though, and Mike winces. That's why he didn't want to say anything just yet in the first place. That mask. "Oh, shit. I'm sorry," he whispers and his eyes sting. "I know I shouldn't have--"

"Mike," Harvey interrupts sternly, and Mike nods and straightens his back.

"Look, I'm sorry," Mike says, his voice trembling. "I knew that you'd want-- But I thought that you might at least consider-- Because-- Because you said that you liked my mind so much and all…" He swallows and wipes his mouth. "I'm sorry. Forget I asked." He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to breathe steadily. "Shit," he whispers. "I'm sorry. But I had to ask. I'm sorry, Harvey, I really am. It's okay."

"Nothing is okay," Harvey grits through his clenched teeth, and when Mike looks up he can see that Harvey is furious. He can see the boiling rage and the stone-cold rejection in Harvey's eyes, and he wishes he hadn't looked up at all. He wishes he had kept his goddamn fucking mouth shut.

"No, really," Mike says after a while when Harvey doesn't speak again. "It's okay. I should have known. I mean, I knew. I-- I can-- Shit, Harvey, I can do this." He reaches for Harvey's hand and has to fight back the tears when Harvey won't let Mike touch him. "I swear, Harvey, please. If that's what you want I can--"

Harvey rises and begins to pace. _The sign that a man is losing it,_ echoes in Mike's mind, words from very far away, and he doesn't know how to make this right.

"Harvey, please. Don't be mad. I'm sorry. It doesn't matter. I swear I can--" he tries, but Harvey cuts him off with a gesture of his hand.

"What the fuck are you talking about, Mike?" Harvey spits and clenches his jaw. Mike can see that Harvey's hands are balled into tight fists, his fingernails digging into the heels of his hands. 

"I just thought," Mike says and stares at the table top. "I just thought that you might let me-- But if that's not what you want-- That's okay. I understand."

Harvey stops in his tracks and stares down at Mike, his eyes narrow and his nostrils flaring.

Mike nods and tries again. "I mean, I know now that we're-- That we-- I mean, now that we're really doing this--" He swallows thickly around the growing lump in his throat. "I'm sorry. We want the same thing, Harvey. I want this, too. So, really, it doesn't matter. It's okay."

Harvey is positively fuming by the end of Mike's little speech. He radiates an energy and a rage of such an intensity that it makes Mike want to retreat. But he can't do that, he can't lose this again before it has even started. He has to make it right. "God, you're so angry. I'm s--"

"If you say you're sorry _one more time_ , I swear I will--" Harvey interrupts himself and presses his fist against his lips. "Yes, I _am_ mad," he continues after a while. "But I'm not mad at you."

Mike raises his head and looks at the other man. He knows there are tears in his eyes and he knows that Harvey hates weakness. "I don't understand," he murmurs.

"Well, I _am_ mad at you, but--" Harvey crouches down in front of Mike and takes Mike's hands in his. "You've got it so wrong, Mike," he says, trying to lock eyes with Mike, but Mike avoids that. "Everything. You've got everything so wrong."

"What do you mean?" Mike swallows again and withdraws his hands for a moment to wipe his eyes. 

"Who--," Harvey grabs hold of Mike's hands again and takes a few shaking breaths. "Why would you think I wouldn't let you work?"

Mike swallows and shakes his head. "I just thought that now that we-- With the bond and all--"

"You think I’m going to take your life away. You think that I want this decision to be entirely up to me." A mixture of pain and shame becomes clearly visible in Harvey's eyes, and Mike knows that Harvey is fighting hard to keep his voice calm and steady.

"Well, it _is_ , isn't it?" He answers shakily, drawing a deep breath. " _Everything_ is, now that we're doing this."

"Oh god," Harvey shifts until he's on his knees. He buries his face against Mike's thighs and just breathes for a while. "Mike," he mumbles against Mike's legs. "Oh god, Mike."

When Harvey raises his head again, his eyes are soft with sorrow and understanding. "That’s why you-- The whole time, right? This is what you thought would--"

He brings Mike's hands to his lips and kisses his knuckles. "And yet you still--" He shakes his head and kisses Mike's hands again. "I don't deserve you. And I swear I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make this up to you."

"I don't understand," Mike whispers again, his voice still shaky and hoarse.

"Mike, _everything_ is up to you. _Everything._ " He runs his thumbs over Mike's knuckles and shakes his head. "This is _your_ life. _Everything_ is up to you."

"But it's _yours_ now," Mike says and squeezes Harvey's hand. "You're an Alpha. I'm an Omega. I'm yours. You decide. That's how it is, isn't it?"

"God, Mike, no! I would _never_ \--" Harvey pauses and a hint of that rage is back in his eyes. "You're mine, yes, but that doesn't mean--"

"But it _does_ , doesn't it?" Mike knows he sounds agitated as well now, but he can't help it. "The Alphas decide. And I trust you, Harvey." He swallows and squeezes Harvey's hands. "I really do. I trust you to make the right decision for m--"

"Shit, Mike," Harvey interrupts and lets go of Mike's left right hand to run his fingers through his hair. "Stop this." He reaches for Mike's hand again before he continues. "God. Please. We're not like that."

"What do you mean?" Mike asks, frowning.

"You must know that I--" Harvey searches for words, and Mike just wants to tell him that it's okay, that everything is okay. "But you must know that that I'd _never_ \--" Harvey sighs and sits back on his heels. "We're not like that."

"But," Mike says. "That's how it is. Alphas and Omegas. _That's. How. It. Is._ "

Harvey shakes his head and bites his lips. "But-- But you have to know, Mike. You have to know that I don't think that way. You have to know, please. Not about you." 

"But you do, Harvey," Mike whispers. "You do. I know. I heard you talking to Klyman in the men's room one day and--"

"Shit," Harvey interrupts and buries his face in his hands. "You were there. You heard--"

"Yeah, Harvey, I heard. And I--"

"Okay," Harvey says and takes Mike's hands in his again. "Okay." He swallows thickly and closes his eyes. "I'm sorry, Mike. I was-- I was so stupid back then. I didn't know-- I--" He brings Mike's hands to his mouth again and whispers against his skin. "I'm so sorry. I wish I could make you forget those words I said, because they aren't true. Not anymore." He kisses Mike's knuckles again and takes a deep breath. "Please, forgive me."

Mike wants to say something, but he doesn't know what. 

"I swear, Mike, I'd never--"

They lock eyes and Mike thinks he can see moisture pooling in Harvey's eyes. He nods. "Okay," he says and his voice is raw and hoarse. "Okay."

He knows that Harvey wants to say more and he knows that Harvey needs some kind of reassurance, but he can't do that just yet.

"What--" Harvey swallows. "What do you want-- What do you want to be?"

Mike doesn't have to think twice. "Yours," he replies. "Yours, and – and a lawyer."

Harvey nods and kisses Mike's hands once more. "Then that's what you'll be." He rises slowly and returns to his chair. "Then that's _exactly_ what you'll be."

"But how could I?" Mike asks. "The firm doesn't hire Omegas as lawyers."

"We'll keep up that Beta scheme of yours, then," Harvey says and the smile that spreads on his lips looks forced. "We can keep that up, you're so good at it, you--"

He reaches for Mike's hands again and squeezes them tightly. "And one day, Mike, one day my name will be on that door and then we can--"

"Then you better hurry up getting your name up there," Mike says, gritting his teeth. "Because once I'm pregnant and start showing--"

"Whoa, wait!" Harvey interrupts and sits back. "Who said anything about kids?"

"Well, I-- I just assumed--" Mike says and falls silent when he sees that look in Harvey's eyes again. "Isn't that what-- I mean, this is your only chance now, isn't it?" He clears his throat. "Don't you want kids?"

Harvey shrugs and reaches for Mike's hand. "Do you?"

"I--" Mike swallows. "I don't know. I've never given it a thought, to be honest. Not until--"

"And all of that," Harvey says and touches the tip of his index finger to the corner of his eye surreptitiously. "And all of that has been on your mind all the goddamn time."

Mike nods and bites his lips. 

"And you never thought to mention any of that to me?"

"I thought you knew," Mike murmurs and shrugs his shoulders. "I thought you knew."

Mike can't recall ever having seen Harvey look this devastated. 

"I don't know what to say," Harvey says and shakes his head. "Will you at least let me try? I mean, I would understand if you won't but--" He touches the corner of his eye again, a little longer this time. "But please. Will you?"

"Try what?" Mike asks.

"To make it up to you," Harvey answers. "Just that. That's all I ask. I know it's a lot, but if--"

"Harvey," Mike says, reaching for Harvey's hands this time.

"What?"

"Shut up."

"What?"

"There is nothing to make up for."

Harvey looks at him with wide eyes and the weariness Mike finds in them make his own eyes well up again.

"We'll figure everything else out later," Mike says and brings Harvey's hand to his lips. "Okay?"

Harvey nods and looks aside. They just sit like that in silence for a while, holding on to each others' hands across the table. 

"Can we--" Harvey sounds drained and tired. He worries his lower lip between his teeth.

"What?"

"Can we lie down again for a moment? I-- I just want to hold you for a bit before--"

Mike rises from his chair and walks over to where Harvey is sitting. "Yes," he says. "Of course we can. Please, I want that, too."

He takes Harvey's hand and leads them to the bedroom. He steps behind Harvey and slips the jacket from his shoulders. Then he kneels down in front of him and undoes his shoelaces. He slips the shoes from Harvey's feet, first the left one, then the right one, and he toes off his own shoes quickly, letting his jacket fall to the floor at the same time.

He maneuvers Harvey onto the bed and lies down next to him, covering both of them carefully with the sheets. He knows they don't have much time, but he will come up with an excuse for them later. He curls up against Harvey's back and gently wraps his arms around the other man's torso. 

"My love," he whispers into the nape of Harvey's neck. 

"We'll talk about all of that later," Harvey murmurs, settling in against Mike's body. "I promise. We'll find a way, we'll--"

"Shhhh," Mike soothes and nuzzles at Harvey's hairline. "Later."

And when Harvey's breathing has finally evened out, Mike kisses Harvey's hair and mouths against Harvey's neck. "I love you so much it hurts."

He will slip out of bed for a couple of seconds a little bit later when he can be sure that Harvey won't wake up again. He'll text Donna to clear their mornings and slip back under the covers.

He will hold Harvey in his arms and listen to Harvey's breathing and very, very carefully touch the corner of Harvey's eye with the tip of his finger and, for once, his mind will rest.

 

~fin~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for staying with me til here and for reading, leaving kudos and commenting! You guys are really amazing!!
> 
> There is one more part in this verse - I have already finished writing it, it's in my beta's hands at the moment and I'll post it as soon as possible.
> 
> And, who knows?, maybe I'm not finished with this verse after all. I really like it and I guess there might be more stories left to tell...


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